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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509958">Love is Everywhere</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24'>freyjawriter24</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Writing prompts and challenges [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas In July | Christmas Out Of Season, Cute, Fluff, Gift Fic, Love Actually References, M/M, Movie Night, Pizza, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:35:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale and Crowley order pizza, and settle in for a night of just the two of them. Pure distilled post-canon fluff.</p><p>***</p><p>Fic written for Suvroc for the GO Events server's Holly Jolly July celebration!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Writing prompts and challenges [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Holly Jolly July: a Good Omens Gift Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love is Everywhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteandillusion/gifts">Suvroc (cuteandillusion)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title comes from Hugh Grant's opening monologue in <em>Love Actually</em>: "It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there."</p><p>This fic is a gift for the wonderful <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteandillusion/pseuds/Suvroc">Suvroc</a> for Holly Jolly July!</p><p>It fulfils the prompt "Anything post-canon where they get to be together and be super soft doing dumb human stuff like shopping (online or grocery shopping), ordering/eating pizza, or stargazing, etc.!"<br/>(It also, if you include the footnote, is 2020 words long, so could fit the prompt "exactly as long as the time period it is set in" too!)</p><p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveningstarcatcher">EveningStarcatcher</a> for running this awesome event!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I still can’t believe you’ve never had a takeaway pizza, angel.”</p><p>Crowley was, as usual, draped over half of the sofa in the back of the bookshop. The soft blue sky of the summer evening had been shut out, like so many unwanted customers, in favour of the cosy orange glow which emanated from the various lamps scattered across shelves and side tables. Every surface and knickknack and ancient tome oozed <em>comfort</em> and <em>shared history</em> and <em>home</em>, and the demon luxuriated in it.</p><p>“Yes, well, it’s always struck me as more your sort of thing than mine, my dear. All that <em>convenience</em> and <em>grease</em>.”</p><p>Aziraphale, prim and proper as always, was sat upright in his own regular spot, book open in his lap, little reading glasses perched unnecessarily on his nose. Said nose wrinkled a little in faux distain at the word <em>grease</em>.</p><p>“It’s called Sloth and Gluttony, I’ll have you know,” Crowley grinned. “And it’s done wonders for the general population.”</p><p>“I’m not going to ask in what ways.”</p><p>“Probably smart.”</p><p>They fell quiet. The silence was comfortable, comforting – gentle and contented, never awkward. They were past all that now. This was usual, normal, and wasn’t that something?</p><p>Crowley reached for his mobile again and checked the pizza app’s tracker. Miraculously, it seemed like the order was on its way already.</p><p>“Not long now, angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked up from his book – an Ian Fleming that had recently arrived in his collection, definitely <em>not</em> direct from the secret shelf of a certain demon – and raised his eyebrows. “That was quick.”</p><p>“It’s fast food, what can I say?”</p><p>A few moments later there was an uncertain tap at the front door of the bookshop. Crowley sprang to his feet.</p><p>“I’ll get it – uh, unless you want to, angel? First time, and all.”</p><p>“I believe I know how this bit goes,” Aziraphale said dryly. “Just don’t go inviting them in.”</p><p>Crowley paused and looked back, halfway out of the back room already. “Huh?”</p><p>“Nothing. Go and get the pizza, dear.”</p><p>The delivery human was clearly slightly relieved to have got the right address, having been thrown off somewhat by the ‘Closed’ sign on the shop door. Crowley <em>had</em> mentioned that, but apparently the app’s miracled-away character limit on delivery details was there for a reason; the delivery note was cut off mid-sentence, and had only got as far as describing the shop itself (it having not had an actual address for several decades, <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>in hopes of avoiding the regular deluge of junk mail that seemed to have become the thing). <sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup></p><p>Aziraphale was reading again when Crowley got back, but he looked up when the demon paused in the doorway.</p><p>“D’you want plates for this, angel?”</p><p>“I believe it’s customary to eat it straight out of the box, is it not?”</p><p>Crowley shrugged. “Yeah. Just thought... if you wanted...”</p><p>“Nonsense. I’m here for the whole experience.” The angel carefully placed a bookmark into page sixty-six of <em>Casino Royale</em> and set the novel aside, reading glasses folded neatly on top. He cleared some space on the coffee table for Crowley to safely put the pizza down. “Now, what are we going to watch?”</p><p>The back room of the bookshop had undergone some small amount of change since the world hadn’t ended. For one thing, there was no longer the oppositional set up of separate seats facing one another; instead, Aziraphale’s chair had been moved elsewhere, and the sofa had become a shared space. For another, there was now an elegant coffee table, subtly carved with snakes coiling up its legs, sat squarely in front of the sofa. Most of the time it was even clear of books, offering instead space for a stack of old car and gardening magazines, novelty coasters for mugs of tea and cocoa to sit on, and, from time to time, plates of food. Takeaways had been one of Crowley’s immediate suggestions when coming up with ‘human’ things to do in the wake of <em>all that</em>, and here was the prime space to eat them.</p><p>By far the biggest change, however, was the introduction of a piece of technology that had actually been made this century. Sat firmly on a blocky stand that had already become filled with books, was a television. Crowley’s eyes had gone wide with amazement when he’d first seen it.</p><p>“I had been keeping it in a cupboard upstairs, since I don’t use it very often,” Aziraphale had said, by way of explanation. “But since you were saying we should try watching more films together, I thought it made sense to bring it down. I only got it to keep up with the odd show Warlock was watching, anyway, so that I would know what he was talking about it he ever decided to be a little more talkative. I believe there was one he was looking forward to that I was planning to record – Positive Portents, or something, I can’t remember –”</p><p>“Never mind that, angel,” Crowley had said, still gaping. “You have an actual <em>TV</em>. In the <em>bookshop</em>.”</p><p>“Yes, well. Don’t spread it about. I have a reputation to keep up.”</p><p>The demon had gone over to it to stare in greater detail. “This thing’s half a foot deep!” He’d turned around to look back at the angel, eyes shining in wonder, and Aziraphale had had no idea whether that was a good thing or not.</p><p>Now, Crowley glanced at the screen and snapped his free hand in its direction. The set jumped to life and the Netflix logo appeared, firmly ignoring the fact that it had no actual way of connecting to the internet.</p><p>“I was thinking something sappy and cute,” the demon said casually. “You know, true love and all that. Angelic stuff.”</p><p>Aziraphale gave him a Look, but said nothing.</p><p>“And I know it’s July, but there’s a half-decent Christmas film you might like, if you want to try it.”</p><p>The demon plonked the pizza down on the table and paused for a second, allowing himself a thrilling moment of awareness of what he was about to do, before throwing himself onto the sofa <em>right next to Aziraphale</em>. The novelty of that simple proximity might never wear off.</p><p>“Sounds interesting,” the angel said, reaching cautiously for a slice of pizza. “Christmas in July. Isn’t that a phrase I’ve heard before?”</p><p>“Old 40s film,” Crowley said, leaning forward to grab his own slice. “And it’s a thing Down Under. And in America. And South Africa, I think? Haven’t been there in the summer for a long while, though.”</p><p>“That <em>sounds</em> like it should be a good thing for my – I mean, Upstairs,” Aziraphale said sceptically. “Which probably means it’s one of your little schemes to encourage Greed and Envy.”</p><p>“Hitting all of the Deadly Sins today!” Crowley said, forcing the upbeat note into his voice, refusing to acknowledge Aziraphale’s little stumble. They were getting there, that was the important thing. Nothing was quick or simple or easy. But they were getting there. “Not actually one of mine, though. Apparently humans just really like Christmas! Or the aesthetic of it, at least.”</p><p>Aziraphale gave a non-committal hum, then finally took a bite of his pizza slice. Crowley watched carefully, uncovered eyes wide.</p><p>This had always been a favourite moment in any shared meal. The first bite, and the last, always had the most interesting face journey attached. There was the pure ecstasy, every time, of the simple presence of food, but there were also the subtler hints at Aziraphale’s exact opinion on any given morsel. The way his eyes fluttered closed, how long they stayed that way, in what precise formation the creases between his eyebrows would arrange themselves, all of it. His face was an open book, and there was always such a descriptive story written there, especially at either end of the meal.</p><p>Aziraphale chewed for a moment, then swallowed.</p><p>“Ooh, that’s actually remarkably good!” the angel said, turning to Crowley with a radiant look of pleasure.</p><p>“Told you so,” said Crowley faintly, quickly hiding his temporary display of weakness by shoving most of his own slice of pizza into his mouth.</p><p>“I never said you were wrong,” the angel pointed out.</p><p>“Fair.”</p><p>Aziraphale took another bite, and wiggled happily in his seat. Crowley could feel the motion ripple down the sofa, and marvelled again at how... <em>free</em> they were now. They could do this. They were <em>allowed</em>. They could just... exist together – sit beside one another and order pizza, choose a film and curl up, holding hands or something, just be <em>together</em>. How was that possible?</p><p>The angel took another bite and moaned a little in delight, and Crowley jammed the rest of his own slice into his mouth to distract himself. With the other hand, he reached for the remote and flicked through until he found the film.</p><p>Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at the title. “Well, I suppose you did say it was soppy.”</p><p>The demon swallowed his pizza without much chewing. “Sappy, I said.”</p><p>“Both, I should think, my dear.”</p><p>Crowley rolled his eyes and selected the film anyway. “You like romance! You’ve got a whole shop full of it!”</p><p>The corner of the angel’s mouth twitched. “Yes. I do.”</p><p>The demon suddenly felt rather weak at the knees, and was rather grateful that he was already sat down. That did, however, mean that he was caught in the full force of Aziraphale’s stare at a very close range.</p><p>“Nngghh...” Crowley swallowed again, nothing to do with the pizza this time.</p><p>“Come here, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly, and of course, <em>of course</em> the demon did. Who was he to deny his angel anything, ever?</p><p>The kiss was soft and chaste, one that was familiar and common, radiant and everyday, and <em>how</em>, how on <em>Earth</em> had Crowley ever done anything to deserve this?</p><p>Strong arms encircled him, pulled him closer, and there was nothing else in the world that mattered right now but being right here, safe and home and <em>loved</em>, held by his partner, his lover, his best friend, just the two of them alone together, curled up in the little world they’d helped save.</p><p>“There we are,” Aziraphale said, as he settled the demon against himself in an eminently cosy embrace. “Comfy?”</p><p>“Mmmnh,” Crowley mumbled, turning and burying his face for a moment into his angel’s chest. “Very.”</p><p>Aziraphale let him rest there for a moment, enjoying the cuddle just as much. They had lost time to make up, after all – far, far too much time. Not that there was any shortage of it to come, either. And what a beautiful thought that was.</p><p>But there was uneaten pizza on the table before them, and the opening moment of a film frozen on his new(ish) TV. So, eventually, he leaned down to nuzzle into the demon’s hair and whisper softly into his ear. “Come on, my dear, we’ve got a film to watch. And pizza to eat.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” Crowley turned his face back towards the screen, but stayed with his arms around Aziraphale. He didn’t need the pizza. His angel could have it. He had all he needed right here – love, and intimacy, and an adorable movie, and the homely warmth of the bookshop enveloping him completely.</p><p>The screen clicked into action, images fluttering to life and a voiceover beginning to speak.</p><p>“If you look for it,” the film said, while random humans onscreen laughed and hugged and kissed hello, the epitome of happiness and love, “I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love, actually, <em>is</em> all around.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup> This, of course, had not worked. They say only two things are a constant in life – Death and taxes – and although Crowley had had the mixed pleasure of meeting the former and was professionally a strong advocate for the latter, he had recently begun formulating a theory that there could be a third item added to the list – namely unsolicited opinions and questionable information from strangers, whether delivered by hand through your door or tweeted incessantly at you on social media. <sup>[<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</sup></p></blockquote></div></div>
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